


It's the end of the world and I feel fine

by threeplusfire



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, The Yogscast
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeplusfire/pseuds/threeplusfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Domestic life after the end of the world was both harder and stranger than anyone expected. But they were together, so it really wasn't all that different in the important ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the end of the world and I feel fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Written especially for my friend Leon, with all my love. We had a conversation once about Ross splitting wood, shirtless, while the other two watched and it was this idea that came back to me recently. I've tried to fill this with Leon's fondness for post-apocalyptic settings and rural life.

Ross paused, leaning one hand on the fence. Sweat stung his eyes, and he swiped the back of a hand over his forehead. It didn’t help much, and he grimaced with distaste. Instead he pulled his shirt over his head, and wiped his face as clean as he could. The sun was pleasantly warm on his back, so he left the shirt on the fence. 

The tremendous storms of the past few days had finally let up, and summer was in full swing. The grass was high, and everything was especially vivid against the bright blue sky. Shading his eyes from the sun, he watched Trott at the other side of the yard putting up a line for the laundry. The rain had kept them inside mostly for the past several days. It would be nice to have some clean clothes. Clean sheets sounded like heaven.  

He turned back to pick up the axe. The last storm had knocked down some trees, and one of them came uncomfortably close to the house. Ross fingered some of the leaves, and wondered what kind of tree it was. He had no idea if it was an elm or an oak. Big, leafy, and an enormous pain in his ass to chop up into pieces. They would need the wood in a few months when summer faded. The weather was so much more unpredictable now, much more dramatic. He wondered idly if there was anyone keeping track of that somewhere. Ross lifted the axe and swung. The thumps were less bone jarring now. He’d had plenty of time to get used to chopping wood and doing a lot of things he hadn’t ever anticipated doing. Ross glanced back over his shoulder at Trott, and thought maybe the end of the world wasn’t quite so bad. At least today. 

 

* * *

Across the yard, Trott draped the laundry over the line, and tugged things so they weren’t dragging on the ground. He squeezed the blue plaid sheets, and hoped they could figure something out when they ran out of soap. The artificial smell of it was comforting, in its own way. Maybe the next time they scavenged he would keep an eye out for washing powder. That would probably last a good long while. Hopefully. He had no idea how one made soap.

Trott stretched, easing the kinks out of his back from scrubbing through the laundry. He dragged the basket back to the porch, the grass swishing around his feet. It was hot, and he just wanted shade. Trott tipped the dirty water off the edge of the porch into the long grass, and sat down on the steps. Briefly, he considered sticking his head in the leftover bucket of clean water. Instead he just scooped out a handful and splashed his face, letting the breeze cool him off.  He flexed his fingers, wrinkled from the water.

Eventually Trott turned to check on Ross’ progress with the tree. It was about half chopped up now. The rhythmic noise of the axe hitting wood made him wonder if Ross was beat boxing to himself over there. Trott leaned back on his elbows, and let himself just watch shamelessly. A year of living out here had taken the softness from Ross’ hands, and even given him the faintest tan. His hair was newly cut. While Smith would let his get long, loose curls falling into his eyes until Trott finally chased after him with scissors, Ross just got cranky. It stuck up in short spikes where Ross rubbed a hand through it, and Trott smiled to himself. 

The year had taken a lot of things, since the world stopped being recognizable and everything went to shit almost overnight. But it had given them a few things. Trott studied the shift of muscle in Ross’ arms and back as he swung the axe, slicing off branches from the trunk. As he watched Ross drag the smallest branches out of the way, Trott thought he should really get up and do something helpful. Five more minutes, he promised himself, and then he’d get up to help Ross. Meanwhile, he could admire the way he looked bent over like that. Ross was always the one with the nicest ass. Trott was sad that so many of their photographs were digital, and they didn’t have anything outside of memories now. There were so many things he wanted to keep forever. Like the sight of Ross, shirtless and sweaty, swinging the axe again and again. 

Footsteps roused him from his drowsy contemplation, and Trott turned his head to watch Smith trudge up the path. He flopped down heavily on the steps, dropping his pack with a thud. He was flushed with the heat, wearing a pair of cheap sunglasses that had managed to survive all this time.

“Look, Trott, blackberries!” Smith pulled out a handful of fruit from one of the pockets of his bag. They had a bit of shine, tiny and fresh off a bush somewhere out there.  

“Nice.” He popped one in his mouth. They were warm from the sun, and sweet. Trott smirked at the purple stain to Smith’s lips. “How many did you eat on the way back?”

“Just a few,” Smith replied, grinning. He picked up a couple, and popped them into his mouth.

“See anything else?”

“Just birds,” Smith sighed. “Hopefully some of those traps will work.”

He’d come up with the idea recently, to try to catch one of the wandering goats they’d seen. They were just far enough outside the city that some of the places had clearly kept farm animals, and some of them were wandering loose. Trott was pretty sure Smith would want to eat it right away. Trott was hoping they might catch a couple. Not that he really wanted to take up goat herding in his late twenties. But it might be good to have a few animals around. Ross was always moaning about how much he missed bacon and eggs with toast. Not that they had seen a chicken anywhere, let alone a pig. But the fantasy of having a semi-reliable source of meat was compelling. Hence, Smith’s idea about catching some of those goats. 

“Mmhmm.” Trott nodded, turning his gaze back to Ross. He was painfully attractive as he swung the axe, and methodically reduced the tree into a series of irregular chunks. It was something about the shoulders, Trott thought. He had very nice shoulders. With the scruff of facial hair lining his jaw, he looked capable and strong. 

“How long have you been watching Ross chop up that tree?” Smith asked, amusement bubbling up in his voice. He pulled off his sunglasses and tucked them carelessly into his bag.

“Fuck off, Smith, I got everything washed.” Trott waved a hand at him. “Just admire the view with me.”

They sat in silence, listening to the sporadic calls of birds and the breeze through the trees along with the regular sound of the axe splitting through wood. Smith rested his elbows on his knees, fingers fidgeting with the laces of his boots. Together, they watched Ross hack through the tree in the golden afternoon light. The shadows stretched across the yard bit by bit, sliding over the house. Trott glanced over at Smith, and studied the fondness that softened his features as he watched Ross work. 

“Do I look as sappy and lovesick as you do right now?” he asked very quietly.

Smith turned to him with a considering look.

“Pretty much, mate.”

 

* * *

Ross finally stopped, holding the axe with both hands. He wondered if maybe it should be sharper, and how they could fix that. Smashing it through a whole tree seemed to have dulled the edge a bit. The pile of wood all around him was a mess, but that could be cleared up later. It would be easier to move to the woodpile round the back now that it was in pieces. Definitely make life a little easier when the cold came back. 

Turning around, he caught sight of Smith and Trott sprawled out lazily on the steps. They grinned at the same time in a way that made Ross’ cheeks heat up, and he reached out for his discarded shirt.

“How long have you been sitting there?” he complained, a little too loudly as he struggled back into the shirt. “Have I been the only one working all afternoon? Trott?” Ross trudged wearily through the long grass back to the porch. He swiped at the tallest weeds with the axe, half-heartedly swinging it at his side.

“Mate, I got all that laundry hung up so don’t even start with me.” Trott chuckled and pushed himself up to his feet. “It might even dry out by tonight.”

“Such a good housewife you make, Trott.” Smith leered up at him. “You’ll make a man so happy one day.” Trott’s obscene gesture made Smith cackle with delight. 

“I make you assholes plenty happy,” Trott snarked. 

Ross set the axe carefully on the porch. He stretched his arms over his head, and groaned a bit theatrically.

“I’m so fucking tired and sweaty and gross,” he grumbled. 

“I think you meant to say tired, sweaty, and incredibly hot,” Smith said. “Trott was getting ready to jack it when I got back.”

“Smith, stop making things up!”

“Guys, I’m right here.” Ross sat down on the edge of the porch and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe the world ended, and left me stuck with you two twats. I’d trade you both for a hot shower with a full breakfast.” 

“There’s blackberries,” Smith offered, dropping a few into Ross’ hand. 

“Thanks.” Ross ate them one by one, savoring the burst of sweetness. “I need a bath, ugh.”

“You know, we should find a bath tub and drag it into the yard, like a hot tub,” Smith mused.

“Who’s going to drag a bathtub all the way here?” Ross countered. “Not me.”

“An actual hot tub probably wouldn’t be so heavy... ”

“No way.” Ross closed his eyes and laid back on the porch with a little groan. He listened to Trott and Smith bicker good naturedly about who was going to make something for dinner. Smith’s footsteps were heavy on the porch, vibrating through the wood as he went inside. Ross was just starting to think about getting up when he felt Trott’s hand on his arm. 

“Don’t fall asleep out here,” he chided. “Come on, the water’s not really warm but you can get clean.” 

“Stop making me do things,” Ross said reflexively as he sat back up. Trott dipped a washcloth in the bucket, and squeezed out the water over Ross’ head. With a happy sigh, Ross peeled off his shirt once again. 

“Fuck,” he groaned quietly, head hanging forward. Trott squeezed more water over his back and shoulders. It was tepid, only a little cooler than the day but he didn’t care. Ross watched stray drops of water run down his arms, leaving glistening tracks. The breeze made him shiver, and the hair on the back of his arms prickle. Trott scrubbed at his back, just hard enough to make it feel like he was making a difference in the dirt and sweat dried on his skin. Ross tried to make encouraging noises so he’d keep rubbing. It was much nicer than doing it himself. Plus Trott could reach that place in the middle of his back that itched. Ross twisted, trying to guide him into scrubbing that spot.

“Contain yourself,” Trott laughed.

“Please don’t stop,” Ross asked in a plaintive voice. Trott chuckled, and wrung out the cloth to start again. He rubbed at Ross’ arms, his hand lingering on the line of Ross’ biceps. Ross leaned forward, and pulled off his shoes. When he stood to take off his jeans, Trott gave him a good smack right on the ass.

“Trott!” Ross yelped, nearly falling over as he stumbled out of his jeans and boxer briefs. “What was that?”

“It is just as hard as it looks,” Trott mused. “Damn.”

“Fuck off,” Ross groaned, tossing his clothes at Trott. 

“Come back here,” Trott laughed again. He reached for Ross’ hand, pulling him closer. Dipping the washcloth back in the laundry bucket, he dragged it over Ross’ hip and down his leg. Ross put his other hand on the post holding up the porch. His back ached, the faintest twinge between his shoulders, and Ross felt tired all the way through. Mostly he wanted to collapse on the sofa inside. But getting somewhat cleaner was a nice in-between step, and Trott’s hands scrubbing at the backs of his legs felt so good. Ross leaned his head on his arm and closed his eyes again. Trott’s fingers were warm, one hand splayed over his thigh and the other dragging the washcloth from hip to ankle. The breeze was intermittent now, cooling the water left on his skin. He could almost fall asleep like this, he thought. 

Ross shifted his weight from foot to foot. He curled his toes in the grass. Some kind of flowers were blooming along the side of the house, the remains of a garden that scented the air. Ross could smell the tree still, all fresh green and wood all over his hands. Gently, Trott ran the washcloth up the inside of his thigh. Ross’ lips twitched, and he cracked his eyes open.

“I’m going to fall down if you start touching my dick right now.”

“Well, fucking sit back down then.”

“Hand me my underwear, I don’t want splinters in my ass.”

Trott tugged on his hand, grinning at how compliant and easy he was. Ross settled back on the edge of the porch with a long exhale. The wood was smooth and mostly free of splinters under his legs. 

“How are your hands?” Trott turned his wrist, leaning forward to peer at Ross’ palms. They were red, chapped from the work. 

“They’re okay.” Ross watched Trott carefully wash them, dripping cool water into his palms and rubbing between his fingers. 

“You have callouses now,” Trott pointed out. “I never thought I’d see the day that happened.”

“I know.” Ross squinted at hands. “No more soft hands.” He still wasn’t used to it, if he was honest. There were mornings he woke up and looked at himself, waiting for this to turn out to be a dream. That, or maybe a very immersive virtual reality game. Something. Anything other than how strange and terrible the world was now.

Trott kissed his fingers, and Ross leaned into him. The surge of love, gratitude that he wasn’t alone, overwhelmed him and he hugged Trott. The breathless laugh Trott uttered told him it was a little too tight, and Ross relaxed his arms slightly. His upper arms ached more now, the slow burn of soreness creeping in.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice thick and muffled into Trott’s shoulder. He felt Trott’s hand on the back of his neck. His touch was reassuring.

“I bet,” Trott whispered, “if you go in there naked and ask nicely, Smith will give you a back rub.”

Ross huffed a laughed. He pressed his head to the side of Trott’s.

“That’s a good idea,” he started to say.

“Dinner first,” Smith interrupted. “Then I’ll rub your back.” He passed a bowl down to Trott before settling down on the other side of Ross. He nudged Ross’ ankle with a bare foot. Reluctantly, Ross let go of Trott to take his food. 

“Tonight’s meal is… beans. Beans with some kind of stale crackers.” Smith hummed a variety of sounds, sounds that probably didn’t exist anywhere now without electricity. It reminded Ross of playing Worms, of never being able to get the sounds quiet enough. Trott rolled his eyes more out of habit than actual irritation.

“Great,” Trott said with fake enthusiasm. “Thank you so much, Alex.”

“Better not sleep on Trott’s side of the bed tonight, he’ll be stinking the place up.”

“Says the man who snores like a wild animal.”

Ross grunted as they insulted each other, focused entirely on putting food in his mouth. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until just now. His stomach rumbled. Mostly he tried not to think about how much better this would be with some bacon, Having food at all was another minor miracle.

They finished off the last of the little pile of blackberries as the shadows lengthened. The sunset shone vivid orange and red behind the trees. The sounds of the birds changed, softer in the growing darkness. 

“Stop that,” Trott snapped after Ross absentmindedly scraped his fork across the inside of his bowl for the third time.

“Sorry, sorry.” Ross gathered up their empty bowls, and carried them inside. It was dark indoors, but the path to the kitchen was familiar and mostly free of obstacles. The last light of sunset came through the kitchen window. Ross leaned on the counter, watching it disappear.

He could hear Smith and Trott in the front room knocking about. The dumb solar powered camping lantern he gave Smith for Christmas two years ago had turned out to be the best present in the world, because it usually gave them hours of good light in the evenings if they put it out all day. 

“Leave those, I’ll clean up.” Trott appeared at his elbow. 

“Thanks, Trott.” Ross squeezed his arm.

Sprawling face-down on the sofa, Ross realized he’d left his clothes out on the porch. Getting up to get dressed was out of the question at this point, though. Without a word, Smith straddled his hips. He dug his thumbs into Ross’ shoulders, provoking a muffled moan. Without even looking, Ross could tell Smith was smiling.

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” Smith said as he rubbed at Ross’ back. He was surprisingly good at it, kneading the tired muscles to ease the tension in them. His fingers moved down the center of Ross’ back before spreading out across his ribs. Ross breathed deeply and tucked his hands under his cheek. 

During the first few months here, when everything was twice as hard as they expected, they were all perpetually sore and exhausted. Ross remembered being in so much pain he couldn’t sleep more than once, and Smith’s hands were warm on his back as he tried to help. The touch was instantly comforting now, even if he was considerably more able these days. Now it was just a pleasure, a reward for all that work. 

“Alright?” Smith asked as he squeezed the back of Ross’ neck. His fingers moved up into Ross’ hair, rubbing circles in his scalp.

“Perfect,” Ross sighed. “Don’t ever stop.”

“Not even to do your front?” Smith asked, his voice heavy with suggestion. He rocked his hips slightly against Ross. 

“Get Trott to fuck you, I am way too tired,” Ross mumbled against the sofa cushion. Smith whined, but kept massaging Ross’ back patiently. Ross turned his head, opening his eyes to see Trott sitting on the floor flipping through the old stack of gardening magazines piled under the coffee table. Ross blinked, watching the way Trott frowned and flipped pages with a look of concentration. He closed his eyes again, and drifted pleasantly. The sound of Trott and Smith talking barely registered as he dozed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Some time later, Trott shook him gently to rouse him.

“Come on, sunshine, we’ve got fresh sheets.”

“Already sleeping,” Ross yawned.

“You’ll complain if I let you sleep on the sofa,” Trott reminded him. 

“Fine, fine.” Ross let himself be led back to the bedroom they mostly shared. The sort of low-grade terror of the early days, the fear of waking up alone, had never quite left them entirely. Smith had flat out refused to sleep alone, seeming certain the other two would disappear on him. The winter had come so cold and miserable that they didn’t have much choice in the end. It was easier to keep warm in one room, and inevitably warmer if they were together.  

Trott liked to joke that it took the end of the world for Smith to own up to his own desires. It flustered Smith, and made him defensive. Ross wasn’t sure whether that really did make the difference, in the end. He sort of thought things were headed that way no matter what. He’d come to terms with feeling something much more intense and prickly than just friendship a long time ago. Something was bound to happen, sooner or later. It had already, if they counted the number of times they kissed after too much to drink, or the times they wound up sharing beds in hotels.

Ross pulled off his boxer briefs and crawled into bed, happily stretching out on his stomach. The sheets were a little stiff, but they smelled like laundry soap and the warmth of the afternoon. Ross wanted to wrap himself up in them completely, just to breathe in that smell. Before he could pull them up, he felt the mattress dip as Smith laid down beside him. Lips ghosted over his cheek. Ross brushed his fingers over Smith in sleepy acknowledgement, before curling over onto his side. He felt Smith spoon up against his back, one arm slipping around him. His breath was warm on the back of Ross’ neck.

The soft glow of the lantern switched off, and Trott climbed into bed with them. He dragged the lightest quilt he’d found in the house to drape over Smith and Ross. He carried a second blanket for himself, draped over his shoulders. Ross half listened with his eyes closed as Trott murmured something to Smith, still sitting up in bed. Smith chuckled at whatever Trott was saying, and Ross felt him prop himself up one elbow. Sleepy and impatient, Ross hooked his arm over Trott’s lap. He fingered the thin fabric of Trott’s pajama pants, and pondered Trott’s refusal to admit that pajamas were not a necessary item to pack in the event of the apocalypse.

“Would you shut up and go to sleep?” He poked Trott’s leg, and Ross felt them lean over him, warm and close. Smith settled back down, pulling at the pillow they shared.

“Goodnight,” Trott whispered, sliding down to tuck himself close to Ross. Smith’s fingers ruffled Trott’s hair before settling on Ross’ chest. Ross hummed, happier than he imagined being at the end of the world. It even felt like things could be okay, at moments like this. For everything he missed, at least he had them. Together it wasn’t so bad.

****  
  



End file.
